In case you don’t know, a “doula” is a person who assists a woman in childbirth. (Not a midwife, but more of a companion and support.)
A woman in NYC got the idea to train and place doulas with the dying, who had no families with them.
Here’s a story about one man’s experience.

In May 2002, when they met, Bill Keating didn’t know a thing about Lew Grossman. Mr. Keating was no social worker or minister or anything like that. He was a retired corporate lawyer in his mid-60’s, recruited into a new program that paired volunteers somewhat enlightened in the particulars of death (they were called “doulas”) with terminally ill people alone with their mortality. After all, there’s no rental agency for friends, for when you’re sick and staring death in the face.

Bill Keating belonged to the program’s first full crop of volunteers, nine strong, and the entire enterprise was still feeling its way. So was Mr. Keating.
Before it was over, something rare would happen in this room, but not what either man imagined. Right now, Mr. Keating hunted for hints. He looked at the diminished man curled in the bed and he thought, well, at least he didn’t seem to be in pain. No tears. This could work. Bill Keating resolved to go forward and see what it was like being Lew Grossman’s last friend on earth.